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           Thebulletcutthewoodwithinafewinchesofthevessel;andageneralexclamationofsatisfactionannouncedthattheshotwasconsideredaproofofgreatskillintheuseoftheweapon.EvenHawkeyenoddedhishead,asifhewouldsay,itwasbetterthanhehadexpected.But,insteadofmanifestinganintentiontocontendwiththesuccessfulmarksman,hestoodleaningonhisrifleformorethanaminute,likeamanwhowascompletelyburiedinthought.Fromthisreveriehewas,however,awakenedbyoneoftheyoungIndianswhohadfurnishedthearms,andwhonowtouchedhisshoulder,saying,inexceedinglybrokenEnglish—

           "Canthepale-facebeatit?"

           "Yes,Huron!"exclaimedthescout,raisingtheshortrifleinhisrighthand,andshakingitatMagua,withasmuchapparenteaseasifitwereareed;"yes,Huron,Icouldstrikeyounow,andnopowerofearthcouldpreventthedeed!ThesoaringhawkisnotmorecertainofthedovethanIamthismomentofyou,didIchoosetosendabullettoyourheart!WhyshouldInot?Why!—becausethegiftsofmycolorforbidit,andImightdrawdownevilontenderandinnocentheads.IfyouknowsuchabeingasGod,thankHim,therefore,inyourinwardsoul;foryouhavereason."

           Theflushedcountenance,angryeye,andswellingfigureofthescout,producedasensationofsecretaweinallthatheardhim.